


Destiny Enslaved

by sarkywoman



Category: Andromeda (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14205534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/pseuds/sarkywoman
Summary: AU where Harper and Tyr met before other members of the crew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gratednutmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratednutmeg/gifts).



> I know this fandom is way dead. But I've been rewatching and chatting with freshgratednutmeg and wanted to put this out.

Harper's excitement has him bouncing from the walls of the _Maru_ and for once it is not an overreaction or chemical stimulation. The _Andromeda Ascendant_ is within their grasp. This motley crew of oddities are actually attempting the unbelievable and making progress. Tyr could never have imagined this even a few years before, when he had been holed up in a hovel on Deyersbon with the mad little genius currently downing an alcoholic beverage.

Harper frowns as Tyr takes it from him and sets it aside, but doesn't stop chatting animatedly to Beka, Trance and the Magog priest about what they will spend their expected wealth on. Beka speaks of clearing her debts. Independence is a noble goal, similar to Tyr's own though their methods will ultimately differ. The Magog speaks of buying absolution. The purple girl manages to avoid saying anything, as is her usual way. Beka nudges Harper.

“What about you? Tech toys or mudfoot home comforts? Little house for you and Tyr, white picket fence? Dog?”

The boy grins and meets his gaze. “I already have a guard dog. You've met Tyr?” Tyr shoves him slightly. Barely a nudge but it's enough to make the smaller man wobble. “Just kidding, big guy. But I'll probably see what Tyr wants to do. We're compadres, amigos, a dynamic duo.”

Tyr rolls his eyes, though the boy's assumption is not wrong. They have known one another longer than anyone on this craft, fighting for survival together before the _Eureka Maru_ took them on board. They had fought foes external and internal when they had barely known one another. Without ever truly discussing it, they had continued to do so. A bond of sorts had been formed.

“So what are you planning to do with your share of the spoils, Anasazi?” 

Captain Beka Valentine leans against the wall with the slight smile that makes it seem as though he is a constant source of amusement to her, though Tyr does not understand the joke himself. He shrugs, aware that the curve of her lips show amusement but her gaze is shrewd as ever. She has not survived so long through naivete.

“I will seek like-minded foes of my enemies and destroy all who have sought to destroy me.”

“Vengeance,” the Magog rasps. “Why would you squander not only your hard-won wealth, but also your time, which will never be returned to you?”

“Hey, nobody's picking at your plans,” Harper says, jumping to Tyr's defence quite unnecessarily. “Tyr's got his scores to settle just like anyone. It's his right to do what he wants with the money.”

The Magog growls a little at Harper's aggression as the boy gets right into its space. Be it a growl of annoyance or one of hunger, it makes Harper flinch back so Tyr moves a hand warningly to his gun, a laser strapped to his thigh. He has many other fine weapons on-board the ship, arsenal enough to battle at least everyone on board if necessary. The Magog knows this. Not only his ability, but his willingness. It shrinks back from Harper, both watching one another warily. 

It bolsters Tyr's resolve to see the boy feeling so brave as to approach the creature of his nightmares. It had taken weeks before Harper could be in the same room as the thing. 

As they all part ways to man their various stations on the ship, ready for the extraction of the _Andromeda_ from the black hole, Tyr catches Harper's arm.

“There are more valuable things available to us than wealth if we accomplish this.”

Harper's smile is the same wicked promise of freedom that it was years before in the slaver's den.

“ _'If?'_ Tyr. You wound me. _When_ we accomplish this we'll work out the next steps.”

“You need to start planning ahead. I have said this before.”

“And as I've said before, why do I need to plan anything? That's what I have you for.”

Harper pats him on the chest and bounces off to Engineering to perform his little feats of genius. 

Tyr barely even feels like he should be annoyed these days, though he makes sure to present otherwise. Fondness is a weakness. 

*

Honestly it is so damn frustrating that the moment Tyr leaves his side on board the shiny new ship Harper finds himself at the mercy of some ridiculously tall High Guard dude from a fallen civilisation. Like, what are the odds? How often does that sort of thing happen to normal people? Throughout the whole conversation, where the man holds him at the end of some sort of... staff (hello, phallic?) Harper keeps glancing towards the door expecting a big, bad Nietzchean to come roaring in any minute. 

He doesn't and Harper has to let down the Captain guy as gently as possible. It can't be easy, waking up three-hundred years into a dystopian future that came about because your guys lost a war. 

In fact, the shock seems to send the Captain reeling. When he's paced a few steps away Harper makes his get-away. He's not much of a combat guy, but he has a pretty good turn of speed when necessary. He hurtles down corridors until he finds his grouchy Uber to hide behind, who escorts him back to the rest of the crew so that he can tell them all about the angry man he's just found.

Beka wants to fight the guy for his ship. So does Tyr and so does Gerentex. None of that should be a surprise. Harper is, again, not a combat guy and is so keen on avoiding combat for the foreseeable future, but he meets Tyr's eyes and knows the big guy has no intention of letting this opportunity pass by. And, well, where Tyr goes Harper goes. It's been that way since the escape. It's safe, even when Tyr gets that murdery look in his eyes. _Especially_ when Tyr gets that murdery look in his eyes, since it usually means whoever's overstaying their welcome is about to get impaled on a boneblade.

Gerentex reveals his two surprise guests, a couple of mercenaries to assist with the murdering. Beka is decidedly unimpressed at the uninvited muscle, especially since it means Gerentex could very well be planning to muscle them all out of the deal. Tyr had already checked out the guy's cargo and warned Harper, so it's not so much of a surprise for him. And so what if Gerentex brought dudes? The _Maru_ crew have Tyr, who's worth a dozen of these idiots. 

Well. Maybe the crew don't have Tyr as such. 

“I can hear your brain whirring,” the Nietzchean says quietly as soon as they're a little away from the others.

“Should get that checked out really,” Harper quips.

“As well as this,” Tyr says, tapping his gun lightly to the irritating rash that is getting worse on Harper's neck. “I dislike how it is spreading. It could be serious.”

“I've had worse rashes, believe me. Right now I'm more concerned about you fighting this random High Guard dude.”

Tyr shrugs, unfazed. “They were well-trained for their time. But I am well-trained for mine. The man should have remained historical. I will put him back where he belongs.”

“And the ship?” Harper whispers.

“There will be a place for you. Whatever I decide to do with _our_ spoils.”

And with that he strides off, hefting a gun the size of Harper's torso over one perfectly muscular shoulder.

It wouldn't be quite fifty-fifty. They would let Beka take valuable things to help settle her debts. Let Trance take whatever trinkets would make her happy. Maybe even let Rev Bem the magog take whatever would fund his charity work. Gerentex and his goons though? As good as dead. Captain Hunt too.

Once they had control of the _Andromeda Ascendant_ nobody would be able to make Harper or Tyr feel fear ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

Tyr doesn't make a lot of noise for someone so big. Stupid Uber ninja skills. Harper suspects they incorporated some old Earth cat DNA into the experiments before the critters went extinct, because there's just no other way a dude with that much weaponry and chainmail should be able to prowl silently across a room.

“Harper.”

“Fuck! Tyr, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

He slides himself out from under the console and looks up at the Nietzchean, who has the nerve to look wryly amused at his panic. The very, very slight curve of his lips soon evens out however, as he gets to business.

“We need to keep moving. Hunt is likely to seek us out for retribution.”

“You've not killed him yet? Either you're slipping or you like him.”

As expected, Tyr rolls his eyes. He leans back against the console a moment and as Harper hasn't gotten up off the floor yet, he's treated to a great angle of Tyr's leather-clad legs. It does no harm to look.

“He's a survivor. I respect that, as you well know.”

“Most people we meet stop being survivors once they get on the wrong side of your guns. Both the bullet-shooting kind and the bicep kind.”

At least that wins him a slight smirk. Since this job began, Tyr has clearly been focused. Not a bad thing, by any stretch, but it puts a little pressure on. Harper doesn't want to see this ruined for him. They've been through situations with life-or-death stakes, but this feels different. A different kind of life. The _Andromeda Ascendant_ could mean the realisation of hopes and dreams. Harper doesn't have too many of those these days, but Tyr clings to notions of rebuilding his extinct Pride, of earning enough esteem to lead his people.

“Captain Hunt is proving difficult. Not impossible, of course, but I don't want him cornering you again.”

“I've got a blaster. Somewhere.”

“That's reassuring,” Tyr drawls sarcastically. 

“I've gotta get this right, Tyr. I've never seen a system this complex. It's beautiful really. It's going to take a little more time than we'd anticipated.”

“As quick as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah. You want me to get this right, trust me. Otherwise we're stuck with a High Guard ship of the line that nobody can fly. Universe's most valuable paperweight.”

Tyr crouches so that he can lower his voice and evade Rev Bem's eager magog ears. Rev is hanging around the far side of the room outside of Harper's space but it would be naïve to think he hasn't been eavesdropping.

“Any notable weapons?”

“So far most of your shopping list. Still looking for the you-know-whats.”

“Good.” Tyr ruffles his hair a bit and stands up again. “You have a communicator now if there's any trouble. Call me immediately.”

“Got it.” Tyr strides away, ass nicely hugged by the leather pants. Harper has a quick jab of worry he's not quick enough to suppress. “Tyr?”

The man stops in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Stay safe.”

Tyr just chuckles and heads out on his little killing trip without any regard for Harper's concern. Bastard. 

*

There are risks inherent in any job. In anything worth doing, truly. Tyr has not survived so long without weighing up potential gains against potential losses in every situation. The discovery that Captain Dylan Hunt remains alive introduced a new level of risk to their endeavour and much to his frustration it distracted him from the lower-level risk they have already been working with.

Gerentex is their employer, but he certainly is not trustworthy. They had been on their guard against him until Dylan Hunt's appearance seemed to unite them against a common foe. Tyr knows that the Magog and Trance were opposed to stealing the ship from a living person. He knows that Harper will follow the path of least resistance, adapting to circumstances as any survivor does. Beka Valentine still hopes to complete her mission. 

Tyr knows all of this because of his Nietzchean hearing. He is used to eavesdropping on the muttering crew. On the _Maru_ Harper tends to ask him what he is smirking about when he listens in on Beka and Trance or the Magog's gossiping. It has become second nature to the point that he had neglected to consider their devious employer is a Nightsider with enhanced hearing of his own.

The damnable creature had drawn his weapon with a surprising speed. Tyr hadn't been able to stop him. A second shot he would have been able to stop but thankfully Gerentex ceased fire after one casualty. When the crew member Harper affectionately called their 'purple princess' lay dead. A senseless and unnecessary loss. Tyr grits his teeth as the Magog yells and snarls, sees Valentine's strength tested in her grief-stricken expression, can _feel_ the rage rising off of Harper.

Three guns aim his way – Gerentex and his two mercenary minions. Tyr remains calm. He has feigned an alliance with the deplorable creature this long. He can maintain it a little longer for the sake of vengeance for the poor girl. 

“I am not opposed to your goals,” he says in a measured tone. “Some of us would like to get paid for all this hassle.”

Beka makes a disgusted sound but the words have struck the right chord with Gerentex, who bares his stubby little fangs in a smile.

“That's what I like to hear, Mr Anasazi. People with their priorities straight.” He gestures to the other two mercenaries. “Disarm them!” Then with a snide grin towards the rest of the _Maru_ crew adds, “shoot them if you have to.”

Tyr's hand tightens on his gun. “The boy is necessary. He is the only one likely to get into the ship's systems.”

“True, true.” Gerentex gestures at Harper with his gun. “Get to work! And don't test me. I'll drag this broken ship across the galaxy if I have to. You are _not_ irreplaceable.”

Harper's eyes are dangerous as he makes his way over to a console, glaring and angry without a wry quip to show his humour. Tyr watches him closely. When the boy feels trapped he can lash out. That may well get him killed here. 

“Now as for you,” Gerentex says, addressing Tyr once more. “I want Hunt dead!”

That should be simple enough, compared to everything else that's happening. 

*

“I don't know how we're going to get out of this,” Beka confesses quietly to Rev as they check out systems near the hangar bay. They still have no control over the ship and Gerentex is becoming more volatile by the minute. 

The Magog tilts his head slightly, wise little eyes considering her for a moment. “I think you fear for Harper and I as much as you fear for yourself.”

“I'm afraid for all three of us. Tyr might come out on top, but he can't protect Harper twenty-four-seven and me and you are rapidly losing our value in Gerentex's eyes. We'll all end up like poor Trance.”

“What happened was not your fault.”

“We've been through this. I'm in charge, that makes you guys my responsibility. For better or for worse.”

“If Harper can access the ship--”

“He hasn't been able to yet!” She takes a deep breath. Rev doesn't deserve her snapping at him. “He can get in, but he can't get around the furious artificial intelligence of _Andromeda_. She just kicks him back out again.”

“And you think he cannot overcome this?”

She laughs a little. “Well if anyone can it's him, right? But under these conditions? More likely he'll mouth off at Gerentex one too many times and get himself shot. Then Tyr will shoot Gerentex, the mercenaries will shoot Tyr, then we'll have to get in the _Maru_ and flee before Captain Hunt shoots us.”

“Your capacity for optimism is admirable as ever, Beka.”

“Trance is dead,” she reminds him. The grief as he bows his head and says a quiet prayer makes her regret her harshness.

Before she can apologise, the hangar bay doors start to close. They rush for them, Rev trying to hold them open, but it's no use. Before they clamp shut Beka sees the _Maru_ taking off without them. “Son of a bitch! He's abandoning us!”

Tyr rushes in, gun brandished. He looks to the doors and to them. “What's happening?”

“Gerentex has taken my ship and your boy.” Harper is stuck on the _Maru_ with rat-face and his two gormless goons.

Their Nietzchean ally growls. “He is not my 'boy'.” He growls again at the hangar bay doors. “That said, if Harper is harmed Gerentex will regret he ever met us.”

“Well I already regret he ever met us. Your little revenge-love story will have to wait until we've actually got a way of getting my ship back.”

He always wrinkles his nose at her when she accuses him of being in a romantic relationship with Harper and this time is no exception. As if it's her fault that they don't realise it. As he fumbles for a response the ship jolts. Just a little, but it's enough to make them all eye one another nervously.

“What was that?” Rev asks.

Beka goes to the nearest console. At least Harper was able to get them rudimentary access to sensors. What she sees makes her stomach churn. “He nudged us.”

“In the _Eureka Maru_?” Tyr scoffs. “I doubt that will do much.”

“You are forgetting,” Rev says, “The _Maru_ was strong enough to pull the _Andromeda_ away from the black hole, despite the terrible pull of the singularity. Pushing us back in, in comparison, is almost effortless.”

“And are we falling in?”

“Gradually,” Beka says, unable to look away from the display and how truly doomed they are. “It'll get faster as we go. Any ideas?”

Rev drums his claws on the console in a rhythmic tapping as he ponders. Tyr paces, eventually suggesting “the stasis pods?”

“Even you don't look convinced,” Beka points out. It is, in fact, the most uncertain she has ever seen him.

“I am loathe to leave Harper to his fate.” Tyr then growls at her smile. “Now is not the time to be smirking at me, Captain Valentine.”

“Hey, I might not get time later.” She sighs and leans back on the console. “Okay. What about the escape pods?”

“Wouldn't recommend it.”

Tyr raises both guns and aims them at the newcomer to their conversation, Captain Dylan Hunt. The man just raises his eyebrows at the very dangerous Nietzchean. 

“If Nietzcheans are anything like they were in my time, you want to survive. The only way any of us will is if we work together.”

“You mean if we do as you say,” Beka surmises as Tyr lowers his weapons.

The centuries-old Captain has the nerve to smile boyishly at her.

“Don't tell me that's worse than death.”

“Guess we'll find out.” She pushes herself away from the console. “What do we need to do?”

*

Their mission isn't successful. Given how some missions have turned out in the absence of success though, Harper is happy to consider this one a neutral outcome. He and Tyr don't control the _Andromeda Ascendant_. That's bad. But after Dylan Hunt's gamble with the nova bombs, Trance is somehow alive, Gerentex is dead, his mercenaries fled and they're all on-board the aforementioned glorious starship with access to... just so many amazing toys and systems and weapons and--

“Harper.”

He twists around in the small space to see Tyr poking his head into the conduit. This little tunnel really isn't made for someone of Tyr's formidable size. Dylan is as tall as him if not taller, but Tyr is just more... There's just _more_.

“Hey big guy, what's up?”

“You have been tinkering around for hours. The ship and her Captain are becoming concerned about your purpose.”

“Did you tell them I'm just really into computers?”

“I did. However you do need rest. It has been a long day.”

Tyr smells freshly-showered. Even on the _Maru_ he had managed to keep himself bathed in nice spicy scents. Warm, musky smells. Undoubtedly the first thing he had done after accepting Dylan's insane offer to join the crew was wash Gerentex's blood from his hands. Captain Hunt had flinched away from the murder, but the rest of them had known it was coming. Gerentex had betrayed them and threatened Harper. In doing so he signed his own death warrant. 

Shuffling towards Tyr, he slides out of the access tunnel and drops his feet to the floor. “I'm alright, you know. Now Andromeda's given me this lotion stuff my rash'll be gone in no time. I still can't believe it would have eaten all my flesh off.”

“It would never have got that far,” Tyr rumbles, putting a hand at the small of Harper's back to nudge him on down the corridor.

They wandered together towards one of the crew quarter sections, Harper taking in everything around them and trying not to run off whenever he saw something he desperately wanted to investigate further.

“You can't shoot viral infections, Tyr.”

“No, but you can threaten to shoot people until a cure is found.”

Harper hugs one of his muscular arms. “You're so sweet.”

“Truly I am no such thing.”

“Are too. I saw how you went for Gerentex. Pretty sure he crapped his pants before he died, the last thing he saw a totally raging Nietzchean.”

“He kidnapped you. It was deserved.”

“Son of a bitch wasn't even gonna pay me.”

Tyr looks at him with exasperation. “You had that conversation with your kidnapper?”

“Eighty-four grand, Tyr. Would've been nice to get that money.”

His stoic protector smiles slightly as they go into one of the rooms. No expense spared here, considering it's a warship. Harper hasn't seen a bed that fancy since their slavery on Kettenc.

“Was there something in particular you needed the money for, little one?”

“Nah, not really. Just more money for the cause.”

He yanks his shirt off over his head and tosses it aside and kicks his boots off to follow. Then the trousers.

“I dropped the meagre contents of your wardrobe in there,” Tyr says, pointing at a cupboard built into the wall.

Feeling free and easy in his boxers, Harper trots over and opens the door. All of his clothes are hanging from little hooks on a rack like Beka's did on the _Maru_. “Neat. Aw, you even brought my leather pants!” He reaches in and rubs the material between his thumb and forefinger. “And here I thought you hated them.”

“Correct. I do hate them.” Having shrugged off his own clothes, Tyr settles into the bed on the side nearest the door. “They're the garments of a kept whore.”

Chuckling, Harper closes the cupboard and wanders over to the bed, clambering into the side Tyr has left free and pulling the luxuriant cover up over himself. “They've got sentimental value. I saved your ass wearing those pants.”

“You know how I feel about sentiment,” grumbles Tyr before reaching out and lowering the lights using a small dial by the bed.

“Yup. Probably the same as me, given you're not telling me to get my own room on a ship that definitely has hundreds of quarters.”

There's silence for a moment. Crap, has Tyr only just realised?

Then he responds. “You are welcome to choose your own room, if you prefer. Your presence overnight doesn't bother me. I'd thought that was clear.”

“Crystal.” They're not touching yet but the heat of Tyr's skin always radiates, keeping Harper warm in the cold nights. Few nights had been as cold as the time on Kettenc, though. “You know I'd only end up crawling in with you in the night anyway.”

“True.”

Tyr extends an arm, granting room and permission for Harper to move closer. 

“I think I can hide from her, you know,” Harper murmurs against Tyr's chest.

“Who?”

“Andromeda. I'll have to check. I'm kinda curious to see how Dylan's idea goes though, you know. Could be useful.”

“And if it's not...” Tyr muses.

“If it's not then we're in a better position than we started, right?”

A hand ruffles his hair. Tyr smiles down at him.

“Aren't we always?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Is this really necessary?”

The haughty voice stops Dylan in his path to the airlock and he turns back to see Tyr. The Nietzchean stands with nonchalance too graceful to be anything but orchestrated. 

“Care to clarify, Mr Anasazi? We need to find out what's going on out there.”

This station should have been abandoned a long time ago if the crew's description of this area of space is at all accurate. And yet there are signs of life and radiation damage. Something is suspicious and Andromeda's sensors can't get a better reading from here.

“I agree. You should certainly investigate, but with the absence of real intel on the situation I would recommend against taking crew members who are more valuable here and more fragile.”

“Beka and Harper may be human, but that's exactly why I'm taking them. We don't know what threats these people have faced. Could be they react badly to Nietzchean or Magog visitors, so I'm leaving you and Rev Bem here. Trance too. We won't be long. Try not to take over the ship.”

Perhaps that was unfair. Tyr is not Rhade, after all. Well, Dylan doesn't really know him yet. It could prove to be entirely justified suspicion. The Nietzcheans had hardly become friendlier during the Long Night.

“Harper is of more use here. He is an engineer. You must be aware of the work he has been doing these past weeks. Ask your ship – he is proving himself invaluable.”

“And he'll be a great asset if we need to force the systems on-board the station to play along. Not to mention he'll know best what can be of use to us.” Dylan folds his arms and tries to assess Tyr's angle. “Is there a particular reason you don't think he should leave the ship?”

“He's fragile. Beka Valentine can more than take care of herself. Harper is not so adept.”

“I'll keep an eye on him.”

“He tends to find trouble.”

“Tyr, it's just a routine station docking. We're just going to hop on board, see if we can figure out the source of the life signals and check for items of use. I don't see the need for alarm.”

“You had best hope no harm comes to that boy, Hunt. I would take it personally.”

“Really? And why's that?”

“Never you mind.” Tyr narrows his eyes and strides away. 

Dylan makes a mental note to ask Beka what the hell her mercenary's deal is.

But then they end up having to deal with a xenophobic youth cult with star-destroying weaponry and the conversation has to wait.

*

Harper is welding some of the damage caused to the interior by the airlock when he hears someone approach. A quick glance over his shoulder reassures him. “Hey Tyr. You okay?”

“I came to ask you the same. Those child hooligans Hunt foolishly allowed on-board were not gentle with you.”

“Plus they spat in your face.”

Tyr scowls. “They did.”

“It's funny, I've never felt like throttling a child before.” Harper resumes his welding.

“I'm touched. You are well, then?”

“Yeah, I'm good. Just trying to work on the little things so I'm not distracted by the _goddess_ I created, ya know? Got to give her a chance to acclimatise etcetera.”

“Yes, about that.” Tyr leans up against the wall so that Harper can look up at him while he works. “Was that a wise project?”

“Huh?” The ship made flesh. The _Andromeda Ascendant_ herself off of the screens and walking and talking like a real woman, but with full access to the systems of a Commonwealth warship. What a dream girl.

“The ship may have called itself a god and claimed Dylan hyperbolic in his self-assessment, but she follows him all the same. He is her master. I just wonder if we know the man well enough yet to be arming him further. Especially with such... capable weapons.”

Harper raises his eyebrows. “Tyr. What do I always tell you?”

“'I was just making friends'?”

“No, not that.”

“'It was only one drink'?”

“Not that either! I'm referring to 'trust in the Harper. The Harper is good'.” 

He doesn't really want to say anything else sitting where they are. He's working on sensor-blockers and ways to reroute the _Andromeda_ 's systems so that she couldn't watch them so closely, but nothing is certain yet. 

Slowly, Tyr's lips curve up into a smile. He understands. 

A large hand reaches down and ruffles Harper's hair. So damn platonic it hurts.

“Very impressive work, little professor.”

“You know I live to please.”

Tyr's hand tightens in his hair. Okay, now it actually does hurt. He uses his grip to angle Harper's head to look him in the eye.

“No. You do not. Not anymore.”

“Right. Just a turn of phrase, big guy.”

“Be sure of that.”

Another gentler ruffle and Tyr wanders off, presumably to harass some other member of the crew. 

Honestly, Harper wishes it _had_ just been a turn of phrase. But even when he had been almost completely lost in the joy of technological discovery he had thought to plant a back door in the new avatar's systems to exploit should the need arise.

Pleasing Tyr is a dangerous vocation, but Harper had thrown himself into it wholeheartedly years ago.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uses the plot of 1x04, 'D Minus Zero'.

Dylan is used to command. Even prior to taking charge of the _Andromeda_ he had been inclined to lead missions. To give orders. While he tries to be more accommodating and understanding of his new and unusual crew, it doesn’t occur to him that they might struggle to follow instruction. Not until the worst possible moment. 

He gives Harper an order, since the smart young man is in the pilot’s seat.

Beka Valentine contradicts the order. 

For a moment that seems to stretch on and on, they remain completely immobile, the ship being fired upon. Harper sits frozen in place, looking between Dylan and Beka as though he has forgotten who’s in charge. Dylan does not want to have to repeat himself. Not in a battle scenario.

“Harper!” Tyr snaps. “Do as Dylan says.”

First names on the bridge. As if Dylan needed any more evidence of how undisciplined his new crew are.

Harper hurries to obey his Nietzchean… master? Andromeda has been unable to pass on anything unsettling about their relationship, but the dynamic is unusual. It would not have been so out of place in a Commonwealth crew, but even then Nietzcheans tended to keep company with their own kind. Dylan still wonders how long Rhade had expected to betray him. 

Once the danger is temporarily past, Dylan takes Beka aside. He’ll need to keep an eye on all of his crew, but her conflicting orders are the most pressing concern. 

She doesn’t react to his concerns with the humility and understanding he had hoped for.

“Why are you mad at me? Tyr is the one who stole your thunder in there.”

“You confused the situation. Harper froze. I need you to be with me on that bridge. Mixed commands will get our people killed.”

Beka shakes her head. “Dylan, this isn’t your Commonwealth. We’re not a High Guard crew.”

“I know that, but--”

“No, you don’t. You think we’re some sort of second-rate substitute High Guard crew. But we are nothing like what you know. You need a different approach if you want to work with us. And yes, I said ‘with’.”

Dylan sighs. “I’m doing my best, but none of you are exactly very forthcoming on how you expect our working relationship to go.”

Folding her arms, Beka appraises him then nods slowly. “Okay. Here’s the low-down that you should have asked me for in the past month. Rev has the patience of a saint but a zero tolerance on anything that conflicts with his moral code. Trance is an enigma but a helpful and cheery one and if she ever makes a request or demand you need to adhere to it or you get some sort of karmic slap in the face. I’m not kidding. Tyr works for Tyr. He’ll only listen to orders that benefit him. Harper works for Tyr, but he’ll listen to us… most of the time. You’re asking a group of loosely assembled agents with different agendas to act as one well-oiled machine. It’s a losing battle.”

“And you? What’s your agenda?”

His first officer shrugs. “I look after my people.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s all Beka Valentine is about.”

“It’s the part that’s relevant to you.”

Dylan sighs. “Just promise me you will remember whose ship you’re on. I look after my people too and I’m counting on you to help with that.”

She doesn’t look enthusiastic, but she does nod. “Fair enough.”

“Also, what _is_ the deal with Tyr and Harper?”

“Oh god, don’t… I don’t even know where to start with them.” After a moment she says, “They’re not sleeping together. Not in that sense.”

“What? I didn’t think they were!”

Beka frowns. “Really? Huh. Normally people pick up on that vibe.”

“Vibe?”

“Maybe they didn’t do things that way back in the Commonwealth.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just worried Tyr owned him or something.”

Her eyes widen. She looks back towards the door to the bridge, where the rest of the crew are still in command. Then she steps closer to him and despite being eye-level with his shoulders, stares him down. “You never, ever let Tyr or Harper hear you make that assumption.”

“Okay, I’m sure it’s not anything like--”

“Ever, Dylan,” she says, cutting him off forcefully. “They’ve been through too much to have to hear you say stuff like that. You get me?”

She’s so serious that he can only acquiesce. “I get you.” Then remembers the point of their conversation. “You clear on the chain of command?”

Rolling her eyes, she turns away. “Crystal.”

And that’s more than enough. With Beka falling in line, the others would follow.

*

Tyr finds Harper working on a solution to clear their attacker’s weaponised residue from the hull. It is pleasant to watch the boy potter about for a while, humming to himself and then interrupting himself to say something about his work. It reminds him of their time on Deyersbon before Valentine had made their acquaintance. It had not taken Tyr long to realise the value of the treasure he had stolen from his captor. The inkling of genius had become full-fledged fact as soon as Harper was allowed a workspace and tools. 

“I know you’re there, you know.”

“Well done.”

“Humans always know when an Uber’s watching.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tyr says mildly. He has been trying for years to separate Harper from his colloquialisms. He cuts to the chase. “You had trouble deciphering the chain of command earlier.”

Harper makes a face as he continues to work applying something from a petri dish to a piece of the hull using a small pipette. “I just got used to Beka being the Mistress, you know? It’s hard to see Dylan as the… well, not so much a Mistress. Can’t really see him rocking the PVC or heels.” He pauses, staring off into the middle distance with a perturbed expression. “Actually...”

“Beka Valentine was no more your Mistress than Dylan is your Master.”

He does not like the look on Harper’s face on that. The impression of scepticism. “They kinda are.”

“They most certainly are not. They are ship owners, nothing more.”

Harper scoffs. “Right, and Danius owned--”

“Do _not_ give him the honour of speaking his wretched name,” Tyr says with a snarl. 

The little man raises an eyebrow and turns away. “Whatever. What do you need?”

“I’m simply making sure you’re comfortable with our current… Captain.”

“Sure, Dylan seems like a good guy. He didn’t snap at me or anything when I didn’t jump in line. That’s a good thing, right?”

Tyr nods. “I suppose so. Still, our situation here is not so different from the one on board the _Maru_. We are not slaves. We are utilising circumstance to our benefit and making the most of people like Beka and Dylan. Remember that.”

His boy is often too willing to trust. Or rather, too tired to be wary. It is an important distinction, one ingrained through years of abuse, desensitisation and the worst of luck. Even after all this time free, Harper leans into submission. Given the forms that sometimes takes with him, perhaps submitting to the orders of their new Captain would not be so bad by comparison.

Still, it sits ill with Tyr to consider it. Harper does not belong to anyone. Tyr won him his freedom in exchange for the little professor gaining Tyr’s freedom. He does not want to see that bargain wasted.

“Sure, but you know it is a little different. I mean, we’re still considering...” Harper pauses and reaches to a wall console near his workbench. After tapping a few buttons he calls, “Rommie?”

They both wait, but the ship does not respond. Harper smiles. “I mean we’re still considering the option of taking the ship for our own, right? But only if the Commonwealth stuff doesn’t pan out. I wanna help Dylan. I think he could be onto something. And if we refuse orders or stomp out of here when he gets snippy we’ll be losing our chance to, _a_ , be part of this crazy possibility or, _b_ , take the ship for you.”

There is no outcry from the ship. Tyr raises his eyebrows. “You have deafened her?”

“It’s more like a sensor delay for now. That seems like the least likely thing to trigger her suspicions. I’ll get to the audio before it’s processed and either obscure it or switch it for something else. I think I’ve got enough voice recordings.”

“You are becoming a technological menace,” Tyr says, full of admiration.

Harper beams. “Why thank you. I am right though, right? About the whole chain of command thing. Better to try and do as we’re told? Be good crew members?”

“If you are comfortable doing so,” Tyr says after some consideration. “Dylan Hunt has yet to earn my respect, but you are your own man. Decide for yourself who your allegiance is with.”

“You. Duh. But a guy could do worse for a Captain than Dylan.”

A guy could do vastly better, in Tyr’s estimation, but he leaves it at that for the time being. 

He and the Captain have strategy to discuss.

*

Dylan may have overestimated Beka’s sway with the crew. Maybe it’s as she said, that they can’t be organised, but Dylan doesn’t like to think so. This is an adjustment period, integrating undisciplined crew into the expectations of a Commonwealth ship. He’s not even expecting military discipline or adherence to the old codes of conduct.

But _how difficult is it to follow one damn order_?

After Harper struggles to perform in another battle scenario and Tyr flagrantly disobeys Dylan’s order to wade in and support the young man, Dylan knows he needs to have a second conversation about respecting command in one day. 

Walking down the corridor with Tyr while Harper and Rommie assess the damages in command, Dylan reminds the man of his orders. To allow one or two missiles through their defences rather than abandoning a zone entirely trying to catch the strays.

“It was common sense. Harper was unable to defend against the incoming barrage.”

“I’m not interested in your assessment of Harper’s capabilities.”

Tyr stops walking. Folds his arms and uses his slight height advantage to look down at Dylan. The very image of Nietzchean disdain. “No? You would rather guess than accept another might have more information than you?”

“More information? I already gave you all the information you needed, which was that you had to stay in your zone in order for the plan to work. You left that zone and endangered our ship. Endangered all of us, including Harper.”

There is a low rumble. It takes a moment for Dylan to recognise it as a growl.

“Need I remind you, sir, that your ship and your mission take us where you will. I have no more endangered us than you have. In fact, given your latest scheme is to fly us to a sun--”

“I am well aware of the measures I’ve had to take to protect us until the necessary repairs can be completed. We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about your inability to follow orders. Do you actually intend to be a part of this crew?”

“I see no harm in it, currently...”

“Great. Well in that case--”

Clearing his throat, Tyr continues. “However, the moment this ship becomes less than accommodating to my survival, I assure you being a good subordinate will not be my priority.”

It takes Dylan a moment to unclench his jaw. No one in his old crew would have dared speak to him like this. “In a battle situation with an unknown foe, on my ship, your best bet for survival is to do as I say. Do you understand?”

Tyr holds eye contact for slightly longer than is comfortable, then inclines his head. “I do.”

Somehow Dylan thinks Tyr’s understanding is not quite what he wants it to be. 

He very nearly asks then and there about the relationship with Harper, but second-guesses the timing. 

There’s an easier target for that line of enquiry.

*

In a way Harper’s glad there’s so much to fix. At least hiding away in the little tunnels working takes his mind off of how bad he screwed up. 

He’s gotten used to Tyr cleaning up his mess. Back on the _Maru_ barely a shore-leave went by without Tyr carrying him back to the ship over his broad shoulder. Beka was always just happy if they could leave without killing anyone. And sure, bar-room brawls are a little different from taking out missiles, but the outcome was the same: Incapable Harper makes a dumb mess and Tyr suffers for wading in and saving his ass. 

For a second the circuitry whirs to life and relief diverts him. He’s fixed it. 

When it dies again he lashes out, punching the casing. It works, bringing things back online. 

“You’re supposed to fix my ship, not beat her to death.”

Harper winces at the sound of Dylan’s voice. Honestly, given how tall the guy is, he hadn’t realised Dylan could even get through these conduits. 

“Sorry. Sometimes uh, high-tech problems require low-tech solutions.”

“Sometimes you deserve a kick in the butt, but you don’t see me doing it now, do you?”

Dylan settles down into a sitting position near him. He does look uncomfortably cramped in the little space. Probably a necessary discomfort, since Harper’s little management talk is way overdue. 

He tries to apologise. He’s not too proud like Beka or Tyr. Seamus Zelazny Harper does not possess a shred of pride. Or is that dignity? Whichever. He’s well-practised at grovelling to authority. 

But Dylan surprises him. He is, apparently, not angry. And not blaming Harper. Which is, seriously, a huge relief because missile-shooting is not in his skill set. He needs advance warning if he’s going to be expected to stop a barrage of missiles. Then at least he can build something to do the job for him. 

Which is, funny enough, what Dylan wants. He wants a new toy. Harper looks over the schematic. It’s an interesting piece of kit, that’s for sure. But being given a job like this, it feels eerily familiar.

“Cool. I’ll have to check.” There should be more of that sentence but he stops himself. Knows how strange it would sound.

“For parts? Cannibalise whatever you need. Work with Rommie. This is top priority.”

“With Tyr, I mean.”

“Huh?”

Harper’s throat tightens. He struggles to look at the confused expression on Dylan’s face. “I mean, I… I don’t normally do spec work.”

“You’re my engineer,” Dylan says slowly, as though Harper has forgotten.

“I know, I know, just… on the _Maru_ , Beka trusted me with her ship. She’d set the goal and I’d figure out the way to get there.”

“Well. I didn’t mean to step on your toes.” Dylan actually sounds amused.

“ _No_ , that’s not what I’m saying. Just...” He sighs.

“Do you defer to Tyr’s judgement because you don’t trust your own?” Dylan shuffles closer, so that their shoulders would be touching if Harper were taller. “Because so far you seem to be the most intelligent person on this ship.”

“Thank you. I am. But Tyr’s smarter in other ways. I know how to do stuff but Tyr knows when to do stuff, you know?”

“Not quite.”

“I owe him everything, Dylan.”

“And do you think he’d have a reason you shouldn’t build this?”

Harper looks over the schematics again. Something to make a little ship look like a big ship. The _Andromeda_ , obviously. A distraction. It’s a good plan, if Dylan can carry it off. 

“Sorry,” he says, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’ll do it. I’m just not used to being given work like this. But I will be!” He adds it on as cheerfully as he can, remembering his resolve to be helpful. 

“You’re used to being a free agent,” Dylan says, squeezing Harper’s shoulder with a smile. “I can understand that. I’m glad to have you on board though, Mr Harper.” A little pat to the shoulder then Dylan’s crawling away. “Let me know when it’s done. Speed is of the essence.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

Once Dylan’s gone, Harper looks over the plans again and wonders.

If he was a free agent under Beka on the _Maru_ , what is he now?

*

They are being slow-roasted by a sun. Tyr knows the others mock him for his penchant for drama, but in this case it is no exaggeration to say Dylan is cooking them. He can _feel_ the radiation.

“No you can’t,” Harper argues when he vocalises the notion. 

“Yes. I can.”

Harper shakes his head, still focused on the machine Dylan wants for his plan. It is allegedly not a weapon, but Harper’s description of its purpose has been vague and disjointed. Much of the boy’s conversation is uncharacteristically muted, the heat getting to him. 

If Beka Valentine and Dylan Hunt are essentially unmodified humans, then Harper requires the creation of another category. There is nothing inferior about his mind and his visage is pleasing enough, but his health is abysmal. It is not enough to blame the malnutrition and abuse of his youth. Even the cruelties and addictions foisted upon him by the wretch Danius are not wholly responsible for his frailty. Harper is, physically speaking, the product of _generations_ of mistreatment. It is speculated that Earth will soon become uninhabitable for humans. In the meantime it produces weak, small humans who cough at a hint of air pollution, almost die from a mild sickness and often pass on before their sixtieth birthday.

Even now Tyr can see the sheen of perspiration on the boy’s face. The occasional huffs as if he feels short of breath.

“Are you well?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Gotta finish this.”

“I did not ask about the status of your project. I am concerned for you.”

“Hey, I don’t get this finished and we’re all cooked.” Harper huffs again and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “It is getting pretty warm on-board now though.”

“Ship?” Tyr calls. 

“Temperature readings are stable.”

The little professor’s eyebrows rise at that, though he does not argue with his mechanical mistress. “Huh. Must just be me.”

Tyr reaches out, ignoring Harper’s embarrassed groan as he presses the back of his hand to the boy’s sweaty forehead. A technique of medical measurement that humans had been using for millennia, back before Nietzcheans were created with the temperature sensitivity to do it accurately.

“It is not just you. You have a fever. We should see Trance in the medibay now.”

Harper draws away. “Nuh-uh. Busy.”

“Don’t make me drag you down there.”

“Not making you do anything, big guy, but while I can work I’m gonna work.”

“If this is some misplaced desire to prove yourself--”

“It’s not!” Harper’s blue eyes are brighter than usual. Tyr wonders how long he has been labouring under such ill health. “I’ve just got my priorities straight, unlike some people who shall remain named Tyr. Dylan’s counting on me to get this right.”

“Dylan is not Danius!”

He speaks without thinking. Immediately he wants to retract it, not knowing the impact his words will have. Emotionally Harper is a roulette wheel.

In this instance he blinks at the outburst. Then pouts. “Oh what so _you’re_ allowed to say his name? Typical.”

As he turns to his workbench, Harper sways and dips. Tyr darts forward and grips his arm, not catching him so much as steadying him.

“You need rest. Not projects flung at you by a new master.”

“It’s _not_ the same. You told me to judge for myself and I am. This gizmo is going to save all our lives in Dylan’s hands. And then, _then_ , I’ll get a nap. Until then can you leave me be? You’re distracting me.”

“Very well.”

“Stop sulking.”

“I do not sulk.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Tyr is outside the door already when he hears Harper coughing. A painful, wet hacking sound. 

This is not sustainable. If Hunt thinks he can work them to death in a radiation pool then he leaves Tyr with no choice at all. He must speak to Beka about their original plan of obtaining this ship for their own. 

She need not know it is for _his_ own until later.

*

After a thorough scan of Harper’s semi-conscious body, Trance looks to Dylan with dismay and says, “Tyr is going to kill you.”

“That good, huh?” Dylan responds with a levity he does not feel. Harper had brought him the completed device and collapsed with it still in his arms. He had not been fully lucid since, even after Dylan got him to medibay.

“Dylan, he’s dying.”

Rev Bem mutters a prayer to the Divine in the background. A chill goes down Dylan’s spine. “What? How?”

“Radiation poisoning. This near the sun, it was inevitable.” When Harper coughs again, blood flecks his lips. Trance gets a cool cloth and dabs it away then presses the clean side to his overheated forehead.

“Inevitable if we stayed here longer,” Dylan argues. He hears footsteps and glances back to see Beka and Tyr walk in. Great. “Nobody should be feeling effects from the radiation so soon!”

“What did I tell you?” Beka asks, snappish. “We are not what you’re familiar with. Things are different than they were three-hundred years ago. Humans born on Earth tend not to live long enough to escape it. Harper’s an exception, but only through… well, I won’t say luck.”

Tyr is already at Harper’s side, fingers brushing the boy’s cheek lightly. He doesn’t look at Dylan as he speaks. “What Captain Valentine is trying to say is that Harper’s constitution is frail enough that you should view him as alien to yourself. What would not ail us can put his life into severe jeopardy.”

“This would have been pertinent information for me to have sooner?”

Now Tyr glares at him. “Would it have one bit of difference in your calculations?”

“Yes,” Dylan says firmly, though he doesn’t know what he would have done instead of this scheme. On a crew so small, losing the most useful member is not a good outcome. 

“Would that we could believe that.”

“You don’t have to believe it,” says Dylan, still holding eye contact. “What we have to do is move onto the next stage of the plan while the damage is still reversible.”

“Or….” Beka’s voice draws everyone’s attention. “The sane people get on the _Maru_ and get the hell out of here. We don’t have to be a part of your stupid fight. Trance, get Harper stable and we’ll move him to my ship.”

Trance makes no motion to do as she says. When Beka looks at her expectantly, she shrugs a little. “Sorry Beka, I kind of prefer my chances here. You know, big ship good, little ship bad?”

“What?” Beka looks wounded. She looks to Rev Bem, who shifts about awkwardly a little before responding. 

“I’m inclined to agree with Trance. The Divine has set me on this path, aligned me with Dylan’s quest. I must see where it leads. I regret that this means our paths will diverge.”

“Forget them,” grumbles Tyr. “We will take some medical supplies and I will carry Harper to the _Maru_.”

“You’ll take him over my dead body,” Dylan says firmly.

Tyr’s eyes widen and he stands to his full height to stare Dylan down. His voice is dangerously calm when he replies, “the last man who stood between us was found in _pieces_.”

Okay, Dylan is getting the vibe that Beka mentioned now. There is more to Harper and Tyr than a bond of mutual assistance or friendship. 

“Be that as it may, I fully intend to use the _Maru_ as a decoy and deal with our attackers while they’re blasting you out of the sky. I wouldn’t want Harper on your ship when that happens.”

“The _Maru_ looks nothing like the _Andromeda_ ,” says Beka. “You’d never pull that off.”

“Did Harper finish your device then?” Tyr asks coolly.

“He did.”

Tyr turns back to the bed and strokes some of Harper’s sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “Foolish boy.”

“Mmm? Hey Tyr,” Harper says, smiling when he sees him. “M’sick.”

“Yes. You are. But you will recover.”

“Did I cause trouble again?”

“Not this time. Rest.”

When Harper closes his eyes agreeably, Tyr looks to Beka and they share a few moments of silent conversation. Dylan can only assume Tyr is expressing his resignation to staying as Beka swears and storms out.

“We’ll save him, Tyr,” Dylan promises, clapping the Nietzchean on the shoulder.

“Spare me,” growls Tyr. “Go. Enact your plan.”

Dylan does take his leave from medibay, though glances back at Tyr as he goes. He has never seen such attentive worry for another from a Nietzchean. Only in cases of an injured wife or child.

If Harper doesn’t recover, Dylan has no doubt that Tyr Anasazi will be the last thing both of them see in this lifetime.

*

Harper wakes to the sound of low voices. He doesn’t feel fantastic, but he feels better than he has for… ooh, since the day they flew into that sun for shits and giggles. He keeps his eyes closed though.

“...and if you expect gratitude for _not_ getting your new crew killed, you will be waiting for a very long time.”

“I’m not asking you for anything. I just wanted to check on Harper’s recovery.”

“He is well, no thanks to--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” When Dylan next speaks, his voice has changed direction slightly. He’s moved closer to Tyr. “Can I ask a question? In the interests of understanding my crew better.”

“Go on.”

Oh god, Dylan’s not going to ask if they’re lovers, is he? Everyone makes the same assumption. Harper should just get a t-shirt that says ‘no he won’t fuck me’. It would save time. 

“When I asked Harper to build me the FMS, he seemed to want to get your permission. Why do you think that is?”

“Certainly I do not command the boy,” Tyr replies. “So I understand your confusion.”

“Something to do with not being used to being given work, he said.”

“I would think it’s quite the opposite. Valentine allowed him almost complete autonomy once he had gained her trust. Prior to that I made no demands on his time or intelligence and left him to create whatever he willed. But before _that_ , I fear Harper was very much accustomed to being given specific projects with harsh deadlines and even harsher purpose.”

“You mean he was exploited.”

“For most of his life.”

“I’d never--”

“That goes without saying, I think,” interrupts Tyr. “It is not your way. However I would ask you to bear in mind that your methods of instruction and command may at times… overlap with what Harper and I know from elsewhere. This may result in different responses than what you would expect from a crew of a military background.”

“Noted. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“It is for his benefit, not yours.”

Sounds of movement again and when Dylan speaks, his voice is by the door. “Are you two...” Harper doesn’t see the gesture or the expression. And he doesn’t see what Tyr does to make Dylan say, “okay, okay. Just wanted to check. Know my crew and all that. I’ll check in on him again later.”

Once Dylan’s footsteps have faded down the hall, Harper opens his eyes to Tyr watching him from the bedside. Tyr is not in the least bit surprised to see him awake. Uber probably knew Harper was awake before Harper knew himself. 

“I hope I did not overstep in my comments to our Captain.”

“Nah, it’s good for him to know… some.”

“Indeed. How are you feeling?”

“Better. A lot better.” Harper wriggles up into a sitting position. “S’like a really bad hangover now. You know, the ones where I claim I’m dying and everything hurts?”

“And this is supposed to reassure me? You did almost die, little one.”

“But I didn’t. We’re engaging in new adventures Tyr, new risks. We knew that when we signed up with Beka and this is even bigger than that.”

Tyr gives him an indecipherable look for a little while before saying, “you enjoy the sense of purpose.”

“Um… I guess? It’s nice, isn’t it? To feel like part of something bigger?”

“My own plans have always been of a certain size.”

“Like everything else about you,” Harper quips. “And you know I’ve got your back. If this doesn’t pan out--”

“What if it does? What mission would you commit to then?”

Harper can’t help but grin. “Oh come on. Like you couldn’t find a way to turn a new Commonwealth to your purposes when you’re in it at the ground level.” A yawn takes him by surprise. Maybe he’s not as recovered as he’d hoped. He wriggles back down on the medibay bed and closes his eyes. “I’ve got the utmost faith in you,” he tells Tyr.

“I am honoured.”

It doesn’t even sound like sarcasm, Harper thinks as he drifts back to sleep.


End file.
